


New Reading Material

by OnlyOneKingLoki



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, First Exposure To Nudity, Guilt, Masturbation, first time masturbation, here be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneKingLoki/pseuds/OnlyOneKingLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Tom is eighteen in this work, because I don't write underage.*</p><p>Tom finds one of his friend's magazines while at Eton for the Christmas holidays, and gets curious as to what's inside and why it has to be kept secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Reading Material

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea about how old students can be at Eton, because I'm from the good old U.S., so if there's anything wrong with the age group, I'm so sorry. The fault is entirely mine.
> 
> Based off the prompt found on thfrustrationprompts at http://thfrustrationprompts.tumblr.com/post/61020733425/young-tom-at-eton-one-lonely-weekend-discovering-a
> 
> I saw the prompt, and my mind sort turned itself into a melting mess, especially when I pictured him as a curly, blond, noodle-haired teenager. (Legal, 18 yrs old). I would say that I'm sorry for my dirty mind, but I'm really not.

I wasn’t going home for Christmas, this year. Emma and Sarah had become ill, and Mother didn’t want me to come home and catch whatever it was they had. This year, I was going to be staying here at my boarding school as one of the few solitary souls left for the two week holiday. None of my friends were staying, in fact, nobody at all in my house was staying. I only knew of five other students in total who weren’t going home, but that was alright. The time alone would give me an opportunity to get ahead in my studies and maybe read a Shakespearean play, or two.

The night after everybody left, I was reading in my bed in the dormitory when something on the bed next to mine caught my eye. It was my friend John’s bed, and he was always looking at the magazines that I’d seen out of the corner of my eye. He said that they were good to look at if you were feeling lonesome, and I was certainly feeling that way then. What was the harm? He was at his Grandmother’s, right then, so there was no way that he’d ever know whether I’d read them or not. Carefully, I set my book aside, marking my place, and I walked over to John’s bed. I picked up one of the magazines and gaped when I saw the cover. There was a woman on it wearing nothing but small bit of fabric between her legs while her arms covered her chest. I read the title of the magazine: _Playboy._

“Mum certainly wouldn’t approve of this,” I murmured, sitting on my bed once more. I flipped the magazine open, and immediately blushed. There was a fully nude woman on a fold-out page with one hand between her legs and the other pinching one of her nipples. I felt myself blushing brightly and was thankful that all the other guys were gone for the holiday. I’d never seen a naked woman before. They were so much more appealing than naked men. Their bodies looked so much softer, and they had more curves. Almost guiltily, I turned the page once more to see another beautiful woman lying on a bed with her legs spread and her hands clutching at a pillow behind her head. Suddenly my pajama bottoms felt constricting, and I set the magazine down, reaching a hand beneath the waistband and feeling myself. I…I had a hard-on! “Shit!”

I’d only ever gotten a hard-on once before, and then I’d simply ignored it to the best of my ability until it went away. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I wasn’t about to ignore it again, not when I had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to explore myself. I never got any privacy when I was at home, and it was rare to receive it at Eton, so my brain told me that the wise thing to do would be to take advantage of it.

Having made up my mind, I stood and pulled off my shirt and trousers, knowing that since it was past midnight on a holiday the chance of there being an interruption was practically nonexistent. I lay down on my side and flipped the magazine’s page. A woman was on her hands and knees looking back over her shoulder and biting her lip. My hand went to my cock, and I allowed my instincts to take over. I felt something wet at the tip and I ran my thumb through it, drawing a moan of pleasure from my throat. I watched my fingers skim over the head and dip under the edges, causing my hips to buck up off the bed.

“Fuck,” I breathed, stroking my shaft and allowing my head to rest on the bed. I flipped another page and stroked faster, squeezing a little tighter. I looked at the gorgeous girl on the page and couldn’t help but wonder about her life, her ambitions, her—“Oh, fuck!”

I squeezed the base of my cock to keep myself from coming too soon, and once the danger had passed, I reached my other hand down and lightly cupped my balls. A loud groan rumbled up from my chest, and I feel my breathing increase to a light pant. I’d never done any of this before, and certainly never while looking at photos of women in such…compromising positions. I wondered if they knew how beautiful they all were. I wondered if they were all…happy posing like they were. My hand started to stroke my shaft again, and I used the steady stream of wetness coming from the slit as lubricant for my hand’s movements. This felt so amazing! A whimper—yes, a very unmanly whimper—escaped from between my lips, and I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t gone home for Christmas. My breathing sped up and my mouth felt drier than a desert.

How could a little exposed flesh turn me into a panting, moaning mess? I couldn’t stop thinking about the way that these girls’ skin gleamed in the light and displayed an infinite softness that male bodies…just…didn’t have. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to run my fingers over their nipples. I wondered: would they gasp? Would they moan? Did every woman sound different, or did they each respond similarly to—“Oh, f-fuck! Sweet mother of God! Oh, ah! Ah! Fuck!”

I felt my back arch up off the bed as taught as a bowstring, while my hand became a blur on my cock. A searing heat rose from my loins, and I felt a hot liquid spurt onto my chest from cock in long pulses. Curses tore from my throat, and I vaguely thought: _I hope nobody can hear me._ Then everything disappeared in favor of a mind-melting emptiness that I assumed was part of the orgasm. After all, I’d never had one before, so how was I supposed to know? My whole body went limp, collapsing onto the bed with a shuddering gasp for breath. I…I had to get cleaned up, but…I was ridiculously tired. I reached weakly for a box of tissues by my bed and wiped off as much of my seed as I could before wrapping a blanket over myself and succumbing to blissful sleep.

\---

When I awoke the next morning, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about what I’d done. The only thought that could assuage those fears was that I’d thought of her in my moment of pleasure. I’d thought of my girlfriend, (y/n), who I was supposed to call later today, but how could I possibly stand talking to her now? She’d be able to hear the guilt in my voice, and I’d have to tell her what I’d done. She’d probably be horrified and angry…I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to speak to me again. I couldn’t lose her! _I know,_ I thought. _I’ll make it up to her somehow. I’ll come for a surprise visit—wait, I can’t. She’s with her family in France, right now._ She’d given me the phone number, though, so I hurried into a fresh change of clothes and ran down to one of the commons areas. Grabbing up the phone, I dialed her number and prayed that (y/n) would answer.

“Hello?” I heard my girlfriend answer, and I promptly lost all semblance of composure.

“Hello, (y/n), it’s Tom. I just…I needed to hear your voice, and I…” I trailed off. I didn’t know how to tell her, but I had to confess to my crime.

“Tom, darling, what is it? Is everything alright?” She asked and I took a deep breath. “Are you…Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here, it’s just…I feel guilty about something I did, and I’m trying to figure out how to tell you without sounding like an ass or a pervert,” I said. _Great,_ I thought. _Now she’s probably worried._ I plunged on without giving her the chance to overthink anything. “I-I saw a magazine that one of the guys left behind, and I looked at it, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Tom, honey, what are you talking about? Why would I be mad about you looking at a magazine?” She asked, and I took a deep, steadying breath.

“It was a magazine that had…women…in it,” I said, realizing that what I’d said didn’t really clear anything up. “They weren’t…exactly…decent, if you see what I’m getting at.”

I heard a light laugh from (y/n)’s end, and I sort of froze.

“And what was the name of the magazine, pray tell,” she asked in a somewhat amused tone. What was there to be amused about? Didn’t she see that what I’d done wasn’t honest? Couldn’t she see that it was basically like cheating?

“It was _Playboy,_ ” I answered in a small voice, feeling my cheeks flame up. I heard my angel of a girlfriend start laughing even louder, and I felt a bit of anger rise up inside me. “Why are you laughing? Don’t…Don’t you see? Can’t you see that any normal guy wouldn’t have done that when he had a girlfriend, because he would’ve respected her? I’m a complete failure! I know we haven’t had sex yet, but I should’ve at least had enough self-control to wait for you! I shouldn’t have thought of you that way, and I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“There’s no reason to apologize, Tom. All you did was get yourself off,” she said. “It’s perfectly normal for you to do that, Tom. Even I get myself off, sometimes, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” she said, and I let out a sigh of relief. _(Y/n)’s not angry!_ “And, honey?”

“Yes?”

“I think of you that way, too,” she murmured, and I felt my cock twitch in anticipation. “The next time we see each other, I think I’m ready if you are.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m more than ready,” I growled into the receiver. I couldn’t wait until I could get away and see my (y/n).


End file.
